POV: Violet
The rain had stopped, but the world still felt damp, heavy, waiting.
I woke before sunrise, the faint gray light seeping through my blinds. My body felt like it hadn’t slept at all—every nerve still thrumming from last night’s rooftop conversation, every breath shallow from the memory of his voice.
Tomorrow, he’d said.
He’d tell me everything tomorrow.
Well, tomorrow was here.
And I wasn’t sure I was ready.
I dragged myself out of bed, slipped into my scrubs, and tied my hair up in a messy bun that didn’t look half as professional as it should’ve. The mirror caught my reflection—tired eyes, shaky smile, heart somewhere it shouldn’t be.
“Pull it together, Violet,” I whispered.
Because today wasn’t about him.
Or at least, it shouldn’t be.
There were patients to check,
